


Singles Event

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [57]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:38:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16360025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “Oh come on,” Jared says. “It’s your business if your boyfriend comes around, don’t give me that. There’s a reason I’m asking you, don’t do the ‘it’s none of my business’ shit, because it is.”“It’s not like you’d be coming as my boyfriend,” Bryce says.





	Singles Event

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Jared Anniversary! I am...incredibly flabbergasted we've reached 57 parts in a year -- it took me _three_ to reach 57 in BTT, the previous record holder for longest series. Now Jared's tied it in parts, if not word count (that record will probably be broken in November) and is going to continue to blow right past it. I cannot believe these two knuckleheads have taken over like this.

Obviously Jared isn’t planning on springing himself on the Flames without telling Bryce first. That would probably go — very wrong. Very, very wrong.

Still, it feels awkward bringing it up. Though, well, if he can’t manage to even bring it up with Bryce, he clearly shouldn’t be going, so he pushes past the discomfort that night, steals the remote and pauses the shitty reality show Bryce had PVRed. 

“So Chaz invited me to the game on Friday,” Jared says. “Said he’d get me a ticket.”

Bryce blinks. “You know whenever you want to come see us play I can get you tickets, right?” he asks.

“I…did not, and am totally going to take advantage of that going forward,” Jared says. “Better yet, tell my dad and you might just win him over for good.”

“Will do,” Bryce says with a grin.

“He invited me to come out with with the team after too,” Jared says, and Bryce’s grin disappears just like that.

“Okay,” Bryce says.

“If you’re not cool with that, obviously I’m not going to go,” Jared says.

“Really?” Bryce says, with kind of offensive disbelief.

“It’s your team,” Jared says. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go.”

“You’ll just be pissed about it,” Bryce says, and before Jared can respond, “No, I — I’m being a dick.”

Jared bites back a ‘kind of’ that emphatically would not help the situation. “Like I said, if you don’t want me to go, I’ll make an excuse,” he says.

“Chaz invited you,” Bryce says. “It’s none of my business—”

“Oh come on,” Jared says. “It’s your business if your boyfriend comes around, don’t give me that. There’s a reason I’m asking you, don’t do the ‘it’s none of my business’ shit, because it is.”

“It’s not like you’d be coming as my boyfriend,” Bryce says. 

And that’s — that’s true. He’ll be there as Chaz’s friend, no one will know that he’s Bryce’s boyfriend, and it’d probably be for the best if they didn’t interact at all. But it’s one thing to know that he’s not there as Bryce’s boyfriend, and another thing…the way Bryce said it, dismissive, it’s like he can turn off having a boyfriend at will. Team time? Bryce Marcus is straight as fuck. Boyfriend of over a year? No such thing.

And like, Jared knows Bryce is in the closet, and it’s not like Jared’s out with every one of his teammates, but even the ones who don’t know he’s gay, well, Jared doesn’t mislead them into thinking he’s straight or anything, just keeps his mouth shut. And then there’s Bryce, who literally fucked multiple women even though he wasn’t interested just to keep his own teammates off his back.

It’s not like Jared would be coming as his boyfriend. As far as the Flames are aware, Bryce is on the straight and narrow.

“I said something wrong,” Bryce says.

“No,” Jared says. “It’s fine.” It’s nothing he didn’t already know, just an unfortunate reminder.

“You can come,” Bryce says. “You should come.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “Let’s just — let’s just watch your stupid show.”

“Okay,” Bryce says, and unpauses it.

“What did I say?” Bryce says after a few minutes.

“You didn’t say anything,” Jared says, which is kind of the point — that he hasn’t, that he won’t, that he considers Jared some dirty little secret — but Bryce just looks confused.

*

Jared plays a game at the Saddledome himself before Friday — a loss, unfortunately — spends a kind of embarrassing amount of time looking up the Flames and making sure he can match them to their photos. The vets he could all recognize from twenty paces, but there’s some new blood this year, and Jared doesn’t want to not be able to identify anyone, end up stalled or, worse, accidentally talking to a Flame without knowing he is one. It’s not like he has a packed schedule anyway, so at least it whiles away some time.

Chaz, as promised, gets him a ticket to the game. Chaz actually gets him two tickets, so Jared takes his dad, and yeah, that might not be like, the coolest thing to do, but there’s no one who would appreciate it more. The Flames score the game winner in the final minute, against the Canucks to boot, and the crowd pouring out of the Saddledome is gleeful, the guys in the locker room probably even moreso.

“Hanging out with the Flames,” Jared says, when his dad offers him a ride home.

His dad frowns. “You haven’t told—”

“Chaz invited me,” Jared says. “No one on the Flames knows about me and Bryce, him included.”

“Be careful,” his dad says. “You don’t know what these guys are like.”

Considering Jared’s, you know, one of those guys if his dad’s talking hockey players, has played with them if he’s talking NHLers, fucking _cohabitates_ with one if he’s talking Flames, Jared’s pretty sure he knows what those guys are like far more than his dad does, but it’s not worth arguing about.

“I’ll be careful,” Jared says, because his dad’s still frowning. “I always am.”

“Except where Marcus is involved,” his dad mutters, and Jared doesn’t want to argue about that either, so he pretends he doesn’t hear him.

Chaz texts him the address of a bar near the Saddledome, and Jared heads directly there, in case it gets swarmed when the Flames show up. He buys himself the cheapest beer on tap, settles in near a bunch of empty tables. The place is packed with people in Flames jerseys, so they’re probably reserved for the Flames themselves. There are definitely lower key places to hang out, but hey, they won, and Jared imagines some of the single ones appreciate going to a place they know they’ll be recognized, can convert a win into a hook-up. It feels kind of skeezy to Jared, but he knows he shouldn’t judge.

When the Flames start filtering in they get a cheer like conquering heroes returning from war, so maybe that’s one of the other reasons they go — must be good for the ego. Bryce isn’t among the first group that arrives, but Chaz is, and he sees Jared right away, waves him over. The seats are indeed reserved for the Flames, and Jared sits at one with Chaz, another rookie — Marek, who says hi kind of shyly and then puts his nose in his phone — and Casterley, who Jared likes before he says a word, mostly because Bryce has gotten even better since Casterley came to Calgary, was put on a line with him. He’s the one setting Bryce up for goals more often than not. 

Jared doesn’t mention his technical Oilers status, and Chaz doesn’t either, just mentions they were former lineys, and the guys Chaz introduces him to are nice enough, if not like, all that interested. Jared can’t say he is either? Like, he expected he’d be all fanboying, hoped he could hide it, but he finds himself glancing over at the door, looking for Bryce.

Bryce shows up late enough Jared’s almost about to text him to ask if he’s not coming, the final straggler, and they have the briefest moment of eye contact before Bryce heads to the bar, even though they’ve got a waitress that Jared’s pretty sure is only serving them. Jared catches himself looking, wonders what that’d look like to Chaz — not what it is, he’s sure, but like some awkward kid with a crush — so he makes himself stop, pay attention to the conversation Chaz and Casterley are having about Overwatch. It’s a game Jared’s been meaning to check out, so it’s not too hard — he asks them about it, and they’re both happy enough to answer his probably dumb questions.

While he’s not like, constantly looking, Bryce stays on Jared’s radar, and it becomes clear really quickly that Bryce is avoiding him. If Jared didn’t know him as well as he does he wouldn’t be able to tell, but he does know him, and there is some serious avoidance going on. Once the group gets mingling it’s like a dance: Jared goes to the bar, Bryce gets the fuck away from the bar. Jared wanders left, Bryce wanders right. Fuck knows what Bryce is going to do if Chaz insists on ‘introducing’ them, and it’d almost be amusing if it didn’t feel shitty as hell.

Bryce is at the bar more often than not — basically unless Jared is — and Jared isn’t counting his drinks or anything, but he seems to be going through them pretty fast, and there was definitely at least one shot happening, so this’ll be great. Drunk Bryce was so much fun when Jared had the pleasure of meeting him.

Jared’s not — he needs to stop paying attention. He should — he should talk to people. He’s literally hanging out with some dudes who have been his heroes since he was a kid, a bunch of players he admires, who cares if one of them is avoiding him? Not Jared.

Chaz has wandered off somewhere, so Jared looks around to see if he can find Casterley or someone who looks friendly.

“I know you from somewhere,” Morris says, and that is — not one of the Flames Jared would peg as friendly.

Jared swallows nervously. Morris isn’t all that much taller than him — he’s like Bryce’s height, max — but he beats the shit out of people on a regular basis, and you can tell, not only from his body type but from his entire bearing.

“I played on a line with your brother in September,” Jared says.

Morris squints. “You’re an Oiler?” he asks, then, louder, “What the fuck is an Oiler doing here?”

“Didn’t make the cut,” Jared says, hoping no one heard that, then, mouth running away with him, “Is this what Christmas is like with the Morrises, all ‘mom, what the fuck is an Oiler doing here?’”

Morris snorts. “More like ‘what the fuck is a Flame doing here’,” he says, and Jared belatedly remembers the conversation he had with Ben Morris at the bar, that Morris clan is an Oilers one. “You’re a friend of Rossi’s, right?”

“Yeah, I was his winger on the Hitmen,” Jared says. 

“Still on the Hitmen?” Morris asks, and Jared tries not to bristle, mostly fails.

“For now,” he says.

“Left or right?” Morris asks.

“Excuse me?” Jared asks.

“Wing,” Morris says, slow, like Jared’s stupid. “Left or right?”

“Right,” Jared says, then, realising why Morris is asking, “They don’t usually put two left-wingers on the same line, you know.”

He’s kind of startled that Morris laughs instead of glaring at him.

“Ben could use right-winger with a backbone,” Morris says. “Try to make the team next year.”

“Because I wasn’t trying this year,” Jared mutters, but it’s to Morris’ back, because he’s clearly been dismissed, Morris wandering off to the bar.

Jared desperately wants to find Bryce, slink under his arm, ask if Morris is always so fucking — _so_ , but that’s not allowed, so instead he finds Chaz, asks the same thing, albeit without slinking under his arm.

“He’s not exactly the friendliest dude,” Chaz says, which feels like an understatement. “I’ve been on a line with him for weeks and we’ve still barely had a conversation, so uh, congrats?”

“I’m still not sure if he was threatening to beat me up for being an Oiler prospect or trying to linematch me with his brother,” Jared says, and Chaz snorts.

“Both?” Chaz says.

“Probably,” Jared says.

“Your drink is empty,” Chaz says, and it’s Jared’s second, he should probably cut himself off right now, but he like, blinks and Chaz has provided him with another. It feels rude to refuse, especially since Chaz knocks his glass, says ‘to the Hitmen having a good season’, and like, Jared can’t not drink to _that_. Drink three goes too fast, Chaz ordering them both another round when Jared’s still got half left, so he has to finish quicker than he wants to, and he’s on beer four when Chaz says, “You should meet Bryce.” 

Jared is so, so tempted to go ‘I should!’, let Chaz find him, see how Bryce fucking deals with it, whether he’d make some bullshit excuse or pretend they’ve never met each other before, or what, but he knows he’s more pissed than sense right now, both in the fact he’s upset with Bryce and in the sense he’s had a few beers and he’s not generally much of a drinker.

“It’s cool,” Jared says. “I heard what happened to that Oilers fan, who knows what would happen to an actual Oiler.”

Chaz scowls at him, and it takes a second for Jared to realise Chaz is scowling at him on _Bryce’s behalf_ , which is a trip. And as annoyed with Bryce as he is right now, Jared has a renewed urge to kiss Chaz on the mouth for being pro-Bryce Marcus when so few people seem to be.

The feeling doesn’t last, because when Jared looks for him next, Bryce is predictably at the bar, chatting with a girl. He’s standing way too close to her, like, barely a breath of distance between them, and that whole — Bryce sleeping with girls before they met was something he knew, and there was no jealousy there, just a crushing fucking sadness that he thought that was necessary, but Bryce clearly chatting up a girl in front of him? There’s jealousy, even though Jared knows Bryce has zero interest in her. Maybe jealousy isn’t the right word, but Jared can’t think of another without going back to the well and drawing on ‘pissed’ yet again.

 _What the fuck are you doing?_ Jared texts Bryce, watches Bryce pull his phone out, read the text.

Bryce puts his phone back in his pocket, and Jared sees fucking red.

 _Bathroom._ Jared texts. _Now_.

Bryce doesn’t even bother to pull his phone out this time, leaning even closer into the girl’s space, and Jared can’t — there is no fucking way he can stick around when he’s so furious he’s blinking tears from his eyes.

“I think I need to go,” Jared says, when he’s gotten enough control of himself he’s sure his voice won’t shake.

“It’s still early,” Chaz says.

“I think I had too much to drink,” Jared says.

“You barely had anything,” Chaz says.

“Guess I’m a lightweight,” Jared says.

“You need a ride home?” Chaz asks, pulling his phone out. “On me.”

“No worries,” Jared says, and Chaz frowns. He follows Jared outside, only goes back in after Jared pretends he’s texted for a cab, handing Jared forty bucks and refusing to move until Jared takes it, which Jared feels crappy about, even though he knows Chaz is making NHL money, that Chaz knows exactly how little money Jared has, because that’s what he had too.

Jared considers actually ordering one, spending the money as intended and going home — like, parents’ home — but the last thing he needs is his parents all ‘oh, guess living together isn’t working out, eh?’ in the morning, or, worse, tonight if he wakes them up coming in. 

Bryce’s place is literally just a few blocks away, so Jared walks it, texting Bryce on the way with _I’m sleeping in the guest room so you’re all good if you’re planning on fucking her in our bed_. He knows that’s unfair, inasmuch as he knows the girl Bryce was talking to isn’t a threat, just a shield, but he’s sure Bryce is going to milk it with his teammates later, pretend he fucked her or bitch about her not putting out or whatever the fuck, trying to fit in, and he just — can’t deal with him. Bryce clearly isn’t cool being Jared’s boyfriend tonight, and honestly, that goes both ways. 

According to Elaine the bed in the guest room is comfortable, so that’s good, Jared guesses. Someone installed a lock on the guest room door — Jared doesn’t know if it was Bryce trying to be thoughtful for Elaine or something that pre-dated him entirely — and honestly, he cares more about that than whether the bed is comfortable right now. He doesn’t bother to turn the lights on, just flips the lock and gets undressed for bed. Tries to sleep and fails. He’s not sure what time it is when Bryce comes in, since his phone’s on the bedside table, but it can’t be more than a half hour after he got into bed, though the time dragged, Jared alternately glaring at the ceiling and rolling over to glare into a pillow.

There’s a knock on the door as Jared’s finally starting to drift, and Jared ignores it, pulls the covers over his head when the doorknob fails to turn and Bryce knocks louder.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous,” Bryce snaps through the door, and Jared bites back a dozen responses, breathes in, out, and pretends to sleep until it comes true.


End file.
